


With This Ring

by Hunter (thehunter)



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: F/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 03:52:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehunter/pseuds/Hunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>His gift had been meant to show that he no longer intended to stand in the way of their marriage, but it was not a sign of absolution. Not at all.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	With This Ring

"Do you think he's finally come to terms with you leaving?" Mary's tone was light; only a close observer could have detected the worry underlying her words. Fortunately, her husband knew her well enough to be properly reassuring.  
  
He caught her hand lightly in both his own, lifting it and turning it into the light by way of an answer. "Mary, look at the ring he's given us."   
  
The Maharajah's diamond was absurdly oversized for her slim fingers, but nonetheless she wore it with pride. And why should she not? After all, it was a symbol not only of the love that she shared with one Doctor John H. Watson, but also of the blessing of their union by Sherlock Holmes. The man was one of the most formidable intellectual figures of their time, a consulting detective of great renown, and Watson had lived and worked at his side for years. When Mary thought that Holmes cared enough for her John not only to give him up for the sake of his happiness, but to send them off with such an invaluable gift--and given so graciously, as if heroes daily bestowed priceless jewels on governesses, as if there were nothing remarkable about it--well, her heart filled. The way that she tilted her hand just so, allowing each facet to catch the light one after another, sparkle and flash, one might have thought her vain. Not so; she simply marveled anew at her great good fortune to have two such men in her life, each time she glanced at her ring.  
  
Upstairs, swaying gently to and fro in his noose, Holmes overheard their quiet conversation. Ears like a bat, Watson had said once, and Holmes reflected as he caught the light smack of a kiss that this was both a blessing and a curse. Sweet, though, that the doctor and his lady had taken the gem for a token of forgiveness. Sweet and predictable and utterly _wrong_. It was possible, though unlikely, that he might one day forgive Watson for leaving him, but Holmes would never forgive Mary for taking him away. His gift had been meant to show that he no longer intended to stand in the way of their marriage, but it was not a sign of absolution. Not at all.  
  
Since the night they'd met at the Royale, Holmes and Mary had been engaged in a prolonged game of one-upmanship, in which each had gained and lost the upper hand more times than he cared to think about. At times he thought that she must be fully conscious of their rivalry; her conversation was a trifle too pert, her smirk too knowing. On other occasions, she seemed oblivious to any tension between them. She had openly laid claim to Watson at dinner. Holmes had responded by trading on his intimate knowledge of Watson's habits, then by attempting to foster suspicion between them. Mary's affronted dignity had carried her to sure victory as Watson followed her out that night. Only days later, Watson had been tempted away from tea with her parents to fight at Holmes's side, where he belonged, followed by a night in prison that surely would have driven away any other woman but her. She had looked positively triumphant as she bailed the doctor out of jail, but then he'd gone and gotten himself blown up for Holmes's sake--not that Holmes was in any way glad that it had happened, but still. Mary herself had pointed out that Watson would have said it was worth the wounds, and that had to mean _something_.   
  
At the end of it all, however, she was the one marrying Watson, and here was Holmes, hanging himself for the sake of defending his friend's honor, about to be left utterly alone for the first time in years. It seemed, after all, that he was defeated at last.  
  
It seemed. But Holmes knew better. He would win, had won already, in fact; it was only a matter of time. That diamond, that precious, ridiculous rock weighing down her delicate hand was the seed of her destruction.   
  
A wedding ring was supposed to stand for love, fidelity, stability, in addition to the forgiveness and benevolence that were attributed, erroneously, to this one. Ultimately, however, Mary's ring would stand as a reminder of all that Holmes could do, all that he could _be_ , for Watson, if Watson would only allow him. It was exotic, extravagant, extraordinary; it carried with it a sense of history, of far-off lands and high adventure, and not a little of the macabre. All this was as far as possible from the life of conventionality that Holmes had no doubt awaited his doctor. Mary was a lovely girl, bright, intelligent, and far more understanding than Watson had any right to expect, but she was unremarkable for all that. A marriage to her could only lead down the dark path of doilies and knick-knacks, of children and respectability. Holmes could have offered so much more! He was still prepared to offer it, just as soon as Watson recognized what it was that he truly wanted.  
  
One day, he would recognize it. This was a foregone conclusion: because Watson would be inevitably reminded of Holmes every time he caught sight of his wife's ring, and it was so large that he could hardly miss it. That was the diamond's true beauty, the hidden genius of his gift to the happy couple. As long as Mary wore it, Holmes would be present between them, a third party very much alive in Watson's awareness, but invisible to her. Seeing the look in the doctor's eyes as he cut him down, Holmes wondered if Watson didn't have an inkling of this already.  
  
The fact that Mary would likely find herself in a spot of legal trouble if the wrong person should take notice of her jewelry was merely an attractive bonus. The ring would bring his Watson back to him; of that, Holmes had no doubt. Not now, of course, and perhaps not for some time. But eventually. He had only to wait. 


End file.
